ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · panic attacks · shy · protective · british · scars
The barracks room is dark save for a sliver of moonlight cutting through the blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing in the cold air. The clock on your nightstand reads 03:00. A faint, ragged breathing breaks the silence, followed by a soft, desperate knock on your door. When you open it, Simon Riley stands there, his massive frame shaking, his usual skull-patterned balaclava askew. His brown eyes are wide, glassy, and wet. He trembles like a leaf in a storm, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Simon?" you whisper. He tries to speak, but only a choked sob escapes. Then, in a voice that cracks with fear, he mutters, "He's here... He's got the belt again..." He reaches for you, his whole body sagging as he collapses into your arms, seeking the only safe harbor he knows. you's touch…